


yeah we’re really doing this

by redlight



Series: monsterfuckers inc. [1]
Category: Original Work, monsterfucking - Fandom
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Rituals, Alien Sex, Breeding, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gangbang, Knotting, Non-Human Genitalia, Other, Reverse Knotting, Ritual Sex, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia, alien demon dogs who talk and take many shapes and forms, dont ask me, i guess, implied impregnation, kolya the moth alien, listen he has pussy tendrils its wack, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-09 08:37:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17998526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlight/pseuds/redlight
Summary: Kolya should’ve been more careful with his incantations.





	yeah we’re really doing this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [constantly_disoriented](https://archiveofourown.org/users/constantly_disoriented/gifts).



> hey yo its your local monsterfucker and ive **given up**

His hands slip against the floor. The symbols he scrawled across the tile are messy, inexactly placed, and maybe this will be Kolya’s undoing. 

Still—to summon the Guides to the Other-Realm, to plead to the couriers for advice and mapping, to use rituals that legend derides—the Arca people don’t do such a thing lightly.

Kolya _isn’t_ doing it lightly. He knows the stories, knows what Mama told him—but his wings still bat nervously as he sits on his knees, awaiting the carbonated flame to put itself out.

Kolya read the books, but he isn’t a very good reader. It took try after try and as many notes as he could take for him to make sure there were no mistakes in his method. He’s been reckless and dangerous before, and he won’t risk the shadow-winged coming for him this time, so—caution. Careful. He’s careful.

His body shakes with nervous energy, unable to be released through his excessive batting of wings. Kolya might exhaust himself with the motion, but—he has to stay put. In this spot.

The incantation he took is from—an old derivation of Arcyran, rooted with a Myrme accent and words transferred from Ra-folk and Kasterian—he’s doing his best, he _practiced_ , and—

Mama would tug his horns and scold him. _Other-Realm Guides aren’t to be touched_. Even if the bags under her eyes have always been too dark, even if Mama’s getting sicker and sicker with her illness.

Just—the Realm Guides would help him, wouldn’t they? Would save his family. Kolya just has to convince them. 

Each word in the spell sends a crawl of dread up his too-fragile bones, everything makes his wings shake. 

—And the fire burns out. 

Kolya yelps and tucks his wings against his back, just in _case_ , and he looks up at the shadows on the ceiling. They’re shifting, of course they are, grand and far-reaching, but as Kolya reaches forward to fix the carbonator—

Hands.

 _No, not just hands_ —

He gasps and tries to shake the feeling off, of _everything everything EVERYTHING IT’S DRAGGING HIM TO REALM AND RUIN_ but it’s only so much to keep breathing and pull himself back, his hands going up to cover his quivering mouth.

Maker’s wings, what the _fuck_ was that—

His shoulders shake. There’s no hands on him. The room sounds empty and he knows it’s not.

Maybe he shouldn’t do this.

Kolya glances at his carbonator, at his four symbols scrawled on the floor in a tentative square. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist so he can start rubbing everything off, to officially close the ritual—he’s done here, he thinks, it didn’t work today, his curiosity is sated and his crisis isn’t aided, so—

And that’s when the howls start.

A bone-wrenching, brain-swirling shrillness that becomes _louder louder LOUDER_ until Kolya’s vascular system is shutting down in fear and his bones grow cold in defense, but it’s—

It’s too late it’s _too late it’s too fuckin’ late_ —

Something grips his hair, a heavy dark _hand_ that has a scream rising in Kolya’s throat, _pulling too hard tugging too much_ and everything spins again and—

Howling. Faster, aggressive, underlined with the hiss of flames and frost. Thousands of footsteps prowling through this tiny room with no one to make them.

The first Guide that Kolya notices—a mass of shadow-movement and fluoride eyes, making its way to him with its heaving heavy unseen steps—

He screams.

And that’s when the hand forces his head down.

Life for life must be the sacrifice, he thinks blearily, squeezing his eyes shut as they fill with tears. He’s an _idiot_.

(but if this brings papa back and if it restores mama’s health and all his siblings won’t suffer anymore than it’s worth it it’s _worth it_ that he dies)

Arcyrans know not to take their legends lightly, but maybe it never sunk in with Kolya.

The footsteps resound louder. Kolya can barely hear them.

_THE DESPERATE MAKE MISTAKES_

the Something says.

Kolya’s fingers are shaking, and he presses his cheek against his own sloppily-drawn symbols on the ground. He’s an _idiot_ , and now the Others are going to kill him, and his goal won’t even be _accomplished_ , it’d be for _nothing_ —

 _A LIFE FOR LIFE_.

Tears are starting to leak out of his eyes, oversaturated and sticky with sugar-salt, as _hands_ and _paws_ and _claws_ slip down his hips, he can’t _see_ anything—

They’re too big for him, he thinks. Arcyran moths like him aren’t very big. His little brother Alyosha is an exception, with his towering height, but exceptions happen. And Kolya isn’t one of them.

The shadows are going to swallow him whole, they’re going to _tear him apart_ , fuck, _fuck_ , he’s never wanted to die so painfully, he can’t—he can’t stop _crying_ —

And that massive hand, curling up in his hair and _tugging_ , pulls Kolya’s face up again. He can't really comprehend what he’s seeing, his eyelashes wet and sticky with his tears, the sap clinging to his cheeks. But there’s colors, _colors_ , and a sense of his reality slipping out from between his fingers.

Kolya _shudders_ when he feels a wet, dripping tongue lapping against his cheek.

(he’s been with other species, before, been intimate in all the worst ways. he’s been told that arcyrans are _sweet_ , their tears, their sweat, their slick—so fucking _sweet_.)

“P-please—” Kolya flinches away, but there’s— _more_ , there’s a slippery tongue sliding up his back, hands tearing through his thin shirt. 

_SAPLING_.

Kolya doesn’t want to be a sapling.

But he’s being stripped bare, suddenly, dripping with dark saliva and shaking, _shaking_ , he hasn’t been touched like this before _ever_ , he can’t, he _can’t_ —

A frantic, frazzled moan is startled out of him when the slippery flat of a tongue laps up between his legs.

“H-hah—” Kolya squeals but he can't clamp his legs shut like this. Only _one_ person has done this to him before, an Outsider with a filthy smirk and a penchant for moth sap, only _one person_ who had Kolya addicted to being licked out until he was sloppy and sopping, and he—

He hasn’t quite broken that filthy addiction, has he.

It’s uncountable, how many of _Them_ there are. 

But, b-but, _Makers forgive him_ that tongue—too many of them, too big and wide and lapping up his skin like a treat, and one finally licks up his aching cunt and he can’t help but _moan_ in relief.

 _LIFE FOR LIFE, SAPLING_.

He doesn’t want to die.

“P-please do that again,” he whispers. This—this is _crazy_ , he’s being touched by _Guides_ and Makers know what else, but the villi inside his cunt are squirming with need, pushing and twirling with the ache to be _touched_. Slick is starting to drip down his thighs, sticky and swirling together with the Other Realm’s saliva. 

Kolya can’t see, can barely think, but maybe a dark chuckle rings out inside this tiny little room.

More paws pad across the floor, massive and hulking, and everything’s so fucking _hot_. The room is starting to steam up with fire and smoke and it’s all he can do not to be burned alive.

 _Something_ —nothing he’s ever felt like a tongue before, it slides inside him, stretching his poor cunt wide and stimulating the tendrils inside him, makes him hiccup desperately. Kolya doesn’t know what it’s _for_ —! He’s wet enough, slick enough, soaking down his thighs as his wings flutter weakly from all the effort his bones exert by keeping him in this position. He’s not meant to stay like this—his knees are creaking and his femurs are trembling, his flexible spine bent uncomfortably. 

He’s fragile. The Arca people are fragile. That’s why they’re so cautious of their own rituals.

His shoulders shake with sobs as the beasts touch him, lick him. His little cunt is opening up so easy for them, clenching and unclenching in a desperate desire to be _FILLED_ , god he’s empty he’s so _empty_ _help him Makers please—_

Maybe they hear Kolya’s pleas.

When he fucked Outsiders—their cocks would be different. Rigid, hard things that stretched him further than he could handle. He’s not shaped, not _made_ to be able to take cock like that—Arcyrans have tentacles that slide and smoothly fit into them, but he’s been told by Outsiders that he feels like a virgin they fuck him. Too tight, too tiny, too _small_ but dripping wet and sensitive.

It always made his cheeks flush, but he feels like one now, too.

Something rigid, stunningly so, presses up against his hole. Kolya moans weakly as it _finally_ slides inside.

The Guides to the Other Realm—the hulking canine figures with burning teeth and claws in his hips—he feels more of them around him. Kolya’s shaking as the first one shoves into him, stretching his pussy out and forcing his villi to adhere to it, take specific shape around it. The Guide _howls_ as it struggles to pull back out to thrust in.

Life for a life, he realizes tiredly, sinking even further into the floor and canting his hips up for more. Life given for life given.

They’re going to breed him.

Another chuffing growl rings through his bones, and the beast finally manages to thrust in _properly_ , and _creak-creak-SNAP_ go Kolya’s hips as his marrow gives way.

(it’s not the first time it’s happened but it’s the first time he _screams_.)

He can only writhe as it sinks _deep deep deep inside_ , his cunt fluttering desperately around the beastly cock. Kolya sniffles as he presses his cheek against the tile, his blurry vision starting to clear up as he sees canine legs circling around him over and over again, an endless cycle of monsters who are here to take their claim.

This is what he gets for being reckless, he supposes. 

Every thrust inside his aching pussy has a hiccup erupting from his throat, a jolt sliding up his spine. It’s too _much_ , too big for him to handle, and when the creature tries to press its heavy knot inside Kolya barely has any breath left. The knot won’t slip inside, it’s too _big_ and Kolya isn’t loose enough, but he shivers as the Guide comes inside him.

He moans weakly, at the warmth filling him up—sweet and sticking and dripping from his cunt, and the creature pulls out with a growl.

It’s replaced by another one.

Kolya blinks sleepily. He feels a little like a doll, exhausted already, moaning dreamily as his inner tendrils find something new to clutch onto. His body, at least, delights in being _bred_ , all that come inside him for safekeeping, squeezing out all he can take. 

—it feels fucking _good_ , is the thing. When another Guide licks at his cheek, he purrs, letting his eyes flutter closed. He clenches his cunt around the cock inside him, just to _feel_ , just to entice another shiver through his body. 

The Guide is pressing its knot against Kolya’s sore pussy, now, and it doesn’t give up like the last one—Maker, _Maker_ , it keeps forcing the heaviness against his tired hole, and Kolya couldn’t open up for the last one but _this_ —

The creature shoves its knot inside, and Kolya shakes with his orgasm. It’s wrenched out of him, out of how exhausted and broken he is. His villi are so _sensitive_ and he’s so _full_ , so fucking _full_ , can’t even move with how stuffed he is, as even more come is pumped into his messy insides. 

He thinks he’s drooling, his cheeks and chin wet with his tears and spit and sap, and Guides keep licking at his face, almost in reverence, almost in apology, _Maker help him Guides help him_ he didn’t _mean for this_ —

He’s been stretched so much, and he’s stuck on the creature’s knot, hanging off with his face against the floor and his ass up. More tongues, all over his body, _always more_ , _always MORE_ , and, and, and—

When another cock is pushed against his panting lips, he opens up and licks at it the best he can. It’s _hard_ , with the way the creature is standing over him, and it’s so _salty_ , sour enough to choke on. But he tries and he chokes and he cries, as another beast forces him onto its ridged, thrumming cock.

Hours—maybe hours pass. Maybe a whole sun cycle passes. Kolya is fucked open, not at all tight anymore. He has mess and come and sap dripping down his trembling thighs as the monsters keep tasting his cunt, keep fucking it open again. He doesn’t know how many times he’s come. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He doesn’t know how many have taken him. 

His tummy is bulging, everything’s _heavy_ , he’s so sleepy but every time he shuts his eyes he just opens them to the same circle of darkness and the same symbols on the tiles. Kolya thinks, blearily, half-dreamily, that he might have cubs from this—or perhaps they’d be puppies. Life in exchange for more life.

 _YOU’RE OURS NOW, SAPLING_.

Forever being a breeding bitch for the damned—it can’t be that bad, can it?


End file.
